


The Other Man In Her Life

by sunshyndaisies (writergirlie)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirlie/pseuds/sunshyndaisies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ron has to take Crookshanks to the vet, he thinks about what it's been like, having to share Hermione with the other man in her life</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Man In Her Life

Ron wasn’t quite sure he had the right place.

 

The sign above the door was swinging wildly in the fierce January wind, banging against the chipped, weather-worn bricks, and Crookshanks was struggling so much in his arms that he found it difficult to look up long enough to read the words.

 

“Quit squirming, would you?” he said, fighting hard to contain the little beast, a tall order if there ever was one. “I’m trying to see if this is where we’re supposed to be...”

 

Crookshanks apparently felt he should be much quicker about the whole thing and didn’t hold back in expressing his displeasure, giving Ron a low, threatening growl that seemed to come from the base of his throat. Ron was not about to be intimidated, though, nor was he going to be rushed. Especially not by a bloody cat who thought he should be the one in charge.

 

“Madam Edna Tibbles, Magical Creature Specialist... Skilled Healer for over 20 years...” Ron couldn’t help but let out a snort. “Merlin, if I didn’t love Hermione so much...” He looked down at wretched creature in his arms, who seemed to be actually sneering at him now. “If it were up to me, I’d be taking you to the Magical Menagerie, but your mum insists on you going to a _specialist_.”

 

Crookshanks responded with a meow that had a distinct air of indifference and turned up his nose. Ron chuckled. If that meant the cat would ignore him for the rest of the afternoon, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

 

“C’mon,” he said, pushing the door open, “let’s get this over with...”

 

A plump, grey-haired witch was standing just inside, talking to a wizard whose owl was hooting mournfully inside its cage. The bird was bald--alarmingly so--and had already shed a frightening amount of feathers in the few minutes they had been inside. There was a noticeable pile of forming by the wizard’s feet; Ron reckoned there was enough to stuff a small pillow.

 

“Just a few drops of these in his water, and he’ll be fine,” said the witch, handing a small vial to the wizard. “He should start to grow back his feathers in no time!”

 

The wizard nodded and slipped the vial into his pocket, just as the owl gave another pitiful hoot. Ron watched the entire thing with great interest, all the while struggling to maintain his grip on Crookshanks, who seemed to be rapidly losing his patience.

 

“Hold still,” he hissed. “It’s not our turn yet--CROOKSHANKS!!”

 

He never even had a chance. Crookshanks leaped out of his arms without warning and immediately made a break for it, darting across the room in an orange blur, squeezing in between pieces of furniture and outrunning Ron, who very nearly knocked over two lamps and a coat rack in pursuit of him.

 

“Get back here, you little monster!”  

 

Not surprisingly, Crookshanks gave as much weight to Ron’s words as he usually did, which was to say, none at all. He slipped just out of Ron’s reach, narrowly avoiding a collision with another witch, who had just come into the office with her pet toad. Ron called out after him again, swearing under his breath and making a mental note that the next time Hermione had an errand to run when Crookshanks was due for a check-up, she would just have to postpone whatever it was and bring him in herself.

 

He was _never_ doing this again.

 

“Crookshanks, no!!”

 

Once again, the cat got away at the last minute, just as Ron was about to close his hands around his waist. Crookshanks nimbly jumped out of his reach, leaping right into Madam Tibbles’ outstretched arms.

 

“Why, hello there, Crookshanks!” she cooed, picking him up to pet him between the eyes, just the way Hermione always did. “And you must be Mr. Weasley?”

 

She smiled and held out her hand. Ron looked at it hesitantly, then finally shook it.

 

“Mrs. Weasley’s told me all about you. I don’t believe we’ve ever met before.”

 

“Er... no, we haven’t,” he said. “My wife is the one who usually brings him in for his check-ups, but she couldn’t make it today, so... the duty fell to me.”

 

“Oh, I see,” she said, tucking away a smile. “Well, it’s good to finally meet you.”

 

“Yeah... likewise...”

 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched as she held Crookshanks up and tickled the underside of his belly. He’d seen Hermione do this loads of times before, but never dared do it himself; the one time he had attempted it--way back in sixth year--the cat had nearly scratched his eyes out. Ron learnt his lesson after that incident.

 

He could hardly believe his eyes, though. Crookshanks seemed to be purring in approval and was now running his tail up and down Madam Tibbles’ arm, curling it affectionately around her wrist, as he did often with Hermione when he was in an exceptionally good mood.

 

Bloody hell. The cat actually seemed to be enjoying himself.  

 

“I can certainly see the family resemblance,” said Madam Tibbles.

 

It took a few seconds for the remark to sink in, then Ron furrowed his brow and turned to her. “Sorry?”

 

“Your hair,” she said, grinning. “You and Crookshanks have both got ginger hair. Your wife must fancy that.”

 

Crookshanks snarled and uncurled his tail from Madam Tibbles’ wrist, as if taking offense at her observation. Come to think of it, Ron didn’t exactly appreciate it either.

 

“Well,” she said at last, after a long stretch of awkward silence, “let’s have a look, shall we?”

 

She motioned for Ron to follow her into the examination room. It was a small room in the very back, with a long table shoved up against one wall, where she set Crookshanks down. Rows of shelves lined the wall opposite them, filled with all kinds of colourful potions in glass vials, pet toys of every shape and size, and some very strange-looking equipment which Ron could only guess she used to examine the animals.

 

“Now let’s see here...” She drew out her wand and made a sort of circle around Crookshanks. A faint, glowing outline appeared around him, vaguely resembling his shape, and Madam Tibbles leaned in closely to examine it from all angles, squinting her eyes and nodding from time to time, as if finding all sorts of fascinating things about it. “Hmm... Yes... Very interesting...”

 

Ron watched her for a few moments, then couldn’t stand the wait anymore and said, “Is everything all right?”

 

“Oh yes,” she said. “Splendid, all splendid!”

 

She didn’t offer any more details than that, but Ron didn’t bother to inquire further, either. If there had been something wrong, he thought, surely she would have said so.

 

She waved her wand over Crookshanks once again, and suddenly the outline vanished, then she walked over to the shelves behind Ron and retrieved something. It was a long piece of flesh-coloured string that looked rather like Fred and George’s Extendable Ears, with an earpiece on one end and a funnel-like attachment on the other, which she held up to Crookshanks’ heart.  

 

“Heartbeat is perfectly normal,” she said, face screwed up in concentration as she listened. “Breathing is good. Do you know how old he is, Mr. Weasley?”

 

Ron shifted uncomfortably. “Er... I dunno, really. My wife got him from a shop in Diagon Alley thirteen years ago. I reckon he’s about fourteen, maybe fifteen.”

 

Madam Tibbles continued to listen to Crookshanks’ heartbeat with her strange apparatus.

 

“Hmm... that sounds about right,” she said. “Crookshanks is part Kneazle, after all. They can live to be very old, you know.”

 

Ron resisted the urge to groan. “You don’t say?”

 

She nodded absently, as if missing Ron’s sarcasm entirely. “Oh, yes. I’ve seen them get as old as fifty, sixty...”

 

This time, Ron couldn’t help but grimace. He could barely imagine another ten years with Hermione’s eccentric, miserly old cat, let alone another fifty. He supposed Hermione would be happy to hear that her beloved pet would be around for some time to come, though.

 

“How has his appetite been? Does he eat regularly?”

 

“Packs it in like there’s no tomorrow, actually,” muttered Ron. “Yeah, I’d say he’s got a healthy appetite.”

 

“Excellent,” said Madam Tibbles brightly. “That’s a very good sign indeed. Tell me, is he still playful? When cats get to be his age, they don’t really like to play too much anymore.”

 

Ron tried not to roll his eyes. “If you call capturing spiders between his teeth and dropping them on my chest _playing_, then yes, he does play quite often.”

 

“Good, good...”

 

Ron got the feeling she wasn’t really listening to him all that closely now, but decided not to pursue the matter.

 

“How does he sleep? Does he get enough sleep?”

 

“He sleeps perfectly well, as far as I can tell,” said Ron. “He’s got a nice, comfortable bed, after all.”

 

“Does he?”

 

“My wife lets him sleep in our bed sometimes. A lot of times, actually.”

 

“I see.”

 

She said no more and simply went back to looking Crookshanks over. Ron kept expecting her to speak again--it was obvious something else was on her mind, as he could tell from the grin she seemed to be suppressing--but she didn’t. The silence was beginning to drive him mad, and the longer it stretched, the more uneasy he grew.

 

Just how long did these check-ups take, anyway?

 

“Mr. Weasley... Do you mind if I ask you something?”

 

Something in the tone of her voice told him he probably wasn’t going to like this much. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Er... sure...”

 

“I get the sense that you don’t seem to like Crookshanks very much,” she said. “Am I wrong?”

 

Ron felt the tips of his ears grow hot, and before he could stop them, the words just came tumbling out of his mouth of their own accord. “Well, I don’t hate him, if that’s what you’re implying!”

 

“Oh, no... I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Weasley,” said Madam Tibbles, though Ron got the distinct impression that that was exactly what she was doing. “It’s just that I can’t help but notice that you seem rather... hostile with him.”

 

_Well_, _so would you if the little bugger were hostile with you_.

 

“We just don’t get on all that well, that’s all,” he said. He wasn’t really sure why he felt the need to explain himself, but found himself doing so anyway. “He and I aren’t exactly what you would call the best of friends. Never have been, really. I reckon he resents having to share me with Hermione.”

 

“Yes, pets can be rather possessive of their owners.”

 

“I’ve noticed.”

 

Madam Tibbles smiled. “Or perhaps... a part of you resents having to share your wife with him?”

 

“No.”

 

_Liar_.

 

“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” she said, as if trying to encourage him to unburden himself. “These feelings are perfectly normal, I assure you. I see many couples in this same exact situation.”

 

“I don’t suppose getting rid of the pet is the solution,” he said with a chuckle.

 

Crookshanks hissed at him.

 

“Have you tried talking to your wife about this? Perhaps she’s not even aware of you feeling jealous-”

 

“I didn’t say I was _jealous_.”

 

“I’m sure she’d want to know how you feel.”

 

Ron nodded, though stopped short of actually saying the words out loud.

“So, er... are you all done with him, then?”

 

“Oh, yes, we’re all done here,” she said, reaching behind her to pick Crookshanks back up and place him in Ron’s arms. “Everything looks excellent. He’s perfectly healthy. I expect he’ll bringing you many more years of joy.”

 

Ron forced a smile. “How very lucky for us, then.”

 

 

* * *

 

He saw her through the swirl of ash and Floo powder, leaning against the arm of the sofa with a book in her lap, her bare legs stretched out before her, and a finger absently twirling a strand of hair. She looked up, as if hearing his feet touch down on the hearth, then brightened into a smile and tossed her book aside.

 

“Oh good, my boys are home!”

 

Her _boys_. Ron tried not to grimace. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of satisfaction, though, when she came up to him and raised herself on her toes to give him a kiss.

 

At least he was the one who got the proper welcome.

 

“Everything went well?”

 

“Oh yes, just wonderfully,” he said, handing the cat off to her. “He’ll live for a hundred years, that one. Healthy as a horse, apparently.”

 

“Well, good...” She looked down at Crookshanks and scratched him affectionately between his ears. “And I hope you behaved yourself today. He did, didn’t he, Ron?”

 

“He didn’t knock anything over, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I really do appreciate you taking him, you know,” she said. “I would have done it, but this was really, really important, and I couldn’t put it off.”

 

“Yeah, well... just don’t make a habit of it,” he teased.

 

“Not even if I make it up to you?”

 

Oh, Merlin, did the woman ever know how to get to him.

 

“If you put it that way...”

 

Thisclose. He was thisclose to kissing her when the bloody cat screeched, startling Hermione into nearly dropping him.

 

“Crookshanks! Honestly!”

 

The cat only meowed further and wriggled in her arms.

 

“Oh all right, you little grouch,” she said, setting him back down on the ground. “Go and chase some gnomes in the garden, then!”

 

Ron didn’t think Crookshanks was going to go anywhere, but he supposed the allure of chasing gnomes must have been too tempting for Crookshanks to resist. Well, at least the cat could be a nuisance to someone else for a while.

 

“Hermione...”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

She looked back at him in curiosity, but let him take her hand and lead her to the sofa.

 

“Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but... don’t you think Crookshanks plays a little too big a part in our lives?”

 

She slipped her hand out of his. That didn’t seem like a good sign at all.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Well... he’s a bit spoiled, wouldn’t you say so?”

 

Her eyes flashed dangerously in that way that always made him nervous.

 

“Lots of people spoil their pets, Ron.”

 

“You let him sleep in our bed.”

 

Her jaw fell open. “Not all the time!”

 

“Enough times,” he countered. “Enough for him to get cranky when we don’t let him.”

 

“You’re exaggerating-”

 

“C’mon, Hermione, don’t you remember our first night here? We wanted to christen our new home properly and it took us _ages_ to just get him out of our room!”

 

“Well, he left eventually, didn’t he? On his own, I might remind you.”

 

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, “only after I begged and pleaded with him.”

 

She sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like him-”

 

“I never said that,” he said. “I’m just... tired of being the other man in your life, that’s all.”

 

He had expected her to yell at him. Scold him. Even fight with him. But the last thing he had ever thought she would do was grin.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

_“_C’mon, I know you. That’s not a look of nothing.”

 

The grin widened. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

 

“Gee, thanks. No, really, what is it?”

 

“It’s just that... you’d better start getting used to sharing me with... others.”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you playing at?” Then it hit him. His worst fears. “Oh no... please don’t tell me you’ve bought another cat... I thought we’d agreed that-”

 

“Ron...”

 

“What?”

 

“Didn’t you wonder where I had to run off to today?”

 

“Well, yeah, I did as a matter of fact.”

 

“I was at the doctor’s.”

 

“The doctor’s... You mean you went to one of those Muggle nutters that cut people up-”

 

She kissed him before he could finish the rest of his sentence, laughing into his mouth so that he almost forgot what had him so worked up just now. Or wanted to forget, anyway.

 

“You worry too much,” she murmured.

 

“And you,” he said, kissing her again, “love to torture me too much. Really, are you OK?”

 

“Mmm... Never better, actually.” She pulled away and smiled, then reached for the book she’d been so engrossed in earlier. “Close your eyes.”

 

“What?”

 

“Come on, indulge me.”

 

He groaned. “You know I do this because I love you.”

 

“Yes, I know,” she said, giggling. He heard a faint rustling, then she felt her nudge him with her elbow. “All right, you can look now.”

 

“What’s this all about-”

 

“Read. Read the title out loud.”

 

Ron felt the summersaults in his stomach before his eyes could finish skimming across the cover of the book.

 

“_What To Expect When Your Witch Is Expecting_...”

 

The smile on her face took his breath away.

 

“Do you suppose Crookshanks would be jealous of a baby?”

 

Ron laughed softly. “Probably.”

 

All of a sudden, though, he didn’t really mind being just one of the men in her life.

 

 

 


End file.
